


Trapped!

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: section7mfu, Gen, THRUSH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 16:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Once upon a time affair. Prompt: the first paragraph; theme: disagreementGetting out of a trap isn't easy.





	Trapped!

One of the biggest nuisances in the espionage game was the over-reliance on anonymous information. The problem was that an agent had no way of knowing whether the intel was genuine, or if it was the bait in a trap. 

<><><><> 

Gun in hand, he moved carefully down the alleyway. A door on his left offered possible ingress. He turned the handle; it was locked, naturally. He felt in his pockets for fuse wire and explosives, fitted them carefully, detonated the result and disabled the lock. The door yielded and he entered what seemed to be a stockroom.

It was dark but his pencil flashlight was enough for him to make his way through a maze of boxes piled high. He shone the flashlight on the labels – wine, olive oil, dried goods and jars of preserves – and crept on. The Italian deli in the middle of this block was popular, heavily used especially by Italian residents and workers in the area – they were in here every day to buy the ingredients for what looked like spectacular five-course dinners. And they weren’t the only ones – there were lots of others who appeared to frequent the place on a daily basis. Must make a tidy profit whatever else it was used for.

There was a door in the wall at the end, which led out into the store. It too was locked. Once more he wrapped fuse wire and explosives around the handle and detonated it. This time, the door failed to open. He felt around the frame… not wood but metal. He tapped the wall. Solid brick. Much as he would like to try it, an explosion of sufficient size to blow a hole in either the door or the wall would attract attention and would probably permanently damage his hearing. Hammer and chisel, if he had them, would take all night. There must be another way.

He shone the flashlight along the wall and up to the ceiling. Nothing there. He ran its light along the base of the wall… nothing… and across the ceiling until he spotted a ventilation cover. Below it, of course, there were boxes, good strong wooden boxes containing wine. Strong enough to take his weight. He climbed up and felt around the frame for the screws.

The cover carefully removed and placed on the pile of boxes, he pulled himself up into the shaft and began to crawl along it. It was very dusty and it wasn’t long before he was wheezing. Another ventilation cover revealed itself by snagging the fabric of his pants and tearing a three-cornered hole in the knee. Swearing softly, he took a small wrench from his pocket to remove the nuts holding the screws, forgetting that the cover would fall with a crash … as it did. There was no resulting commotion, no-one came. He looked down into the store –not such a long drop if he was careful, but returning this way wouldn’t be at all easy.

Not such a long drop for him, but a little too far for his flashlight. It fell out of his pocket as he bent to grasp the edge of the hole and broke on the hard floor below and, had she heard him, would have cost him a fair sum in his mother’s cuss box. He dropped down, making a softer landing than the flashlight had, and found faint but sufficient illumination from distant street lights for a search.

Slightly surprised not to have set off an alarm, he prowled around looking for the entrance to the enemy’s headquarters that they had been reliably informed was somewhere in the store.

The only other door was the one into the street. Where could another be – hidden behind shelves somewhere? They were all screwed to the wall – if this was supposed to be an entrance, they surely wouldn’t want the kind of delay that must entail?

Face it, he told himself. You’ve been led up the garden path. The entrance isn’t here and you aren’t going to be able to disable it. Now what? He looked back at the hole in the ceiling and considered how he was going to get back. It would be easier to break out into the street. There was just enough explosive left to blow the door. That would almost certainly set off an alarm so he’d have to be on the ball about which way to go so as not to get caught.

<><><> 

“He should have worked out by now that they’ve been fooled and he’s the patsy.”

“Shame, really. He’s been quite clever.”

“What if he tries to go back the way he came?”

 “He’ll have run out of explosive by now and the stockroom door has been repaired.”

“Neat work… We’ll have to be on the ball to catch him if he tries to break out this way. He could be down that alleyway in a flash.”

<><><> 

They would be watching the door, of course. There must be another way – a window, maybe? Keeping low, he examined the windows of the store. They were all large and would make a huge amount of noise if broken. Could he cut a hole large enough to climb through? Glass cutter, glass cutter – he hadn’t brought one. There should be some oil in the store that he could wipe on the window. He could then score the glass with the screwdriver in straight lines – maybe in a triangular shape – but it would still fall out with a crash: this wasn’t the kind of store that would have adhesive tape.

Sunk in gloom, he now looked up at the tops of the windows and saw louvres. At last, a simple solution… but how to get up to remove the glass panels and climb out? He went to one of the small counters and pulled at it experimentally. Not fixed to the floor. He dragged it to the side window and climbed up. The panels were sticky with dirt but by dint of tugging and swearing, he got them out leaving a narrow but negotiable gap for someone so slight of build, and fit. He grasped the edge of the frame and pulled himself up with enormous care, fearful of kicking and breaking the window. It was a struggle to get into the hole and then there was the headlong drop the other side to manage. He’d have to just drop onto his hands and roll, and hope not to break his wrists or his neck.

<><><> 

“My God, look what he’s doing!”

“Let’s go and break his fall. I think we owe it to him.”

<><> 

He slid as far out as possible, head and one arm down, hanging on by the fingertips of the other hand, and then let go, and landed on a much softer surface than he was expecting – mostly arms.

“Good evening,” said someone breezily, as he was restored to his feet. “Oh, don’t say that, what would your mother think.”

Another voice, dryer and more sardonic, said, “You did quite well there, my friend. We thought you might be stuck till morning.”

He looked at his captors. “Stake-outs are low-grade work for you two,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be out saving the world?”

“Been there, done that,” said the taller and darker of the two.

“We were looking for a bit of light entertainment,” said the little blond one. “You supplied us with this evening’s floor show. It was a very good performance – we were quite impressed. We’d like to take you home to meet our Uncle – he’s dying to talk to you.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be getting along now. It’s past my bedtime.”

“Oh, we can put you up. Uncle might get you a cup of cocoa if you’re good and say your prayers.”

“Say his prayers?” said the blond.

“Every good boy says his prayers at night.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you’re not a good boy, Illya, are you?”

The Thrush agent listened to this in some surprise. “I say mine,” he said. “Why don’t you?”

“Because he’s a …”

“That’ll do, Napoleon. Let’s get him back. Put the blindfold on him.”

It was with considerable chagrin that their captive found himself being led only a short distance before being ushered into UNCLE headquarters and down into a cell.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” they said, “sleep well.”

Someone then brought him a mug of cocoa and left him to his prayers which were a little more fervent than usual.

<><><><> 


End file.
